5 Yrs. Down

             Well I guess to understand the last five years of my life, I should go back a to where it all started. Most of my life has been plagued by drugs and mental instability. From a young age(13) I sought out an escape. By 15, I was sent to a rehab, even though I only drank and smoked weed. This taught me how to do bigger and better drugs, my parents biggest regret to this day was listening to other people's advice and sending me to rehab. 
          After rehab, I had a mental breakdown(while sober I must add) and was sent to the psych ward. Though I must say, it was more like a resort than a hospital, but I digress. Most of my teenage and adult years were spent living a roller-coaster life. I'm not really bi-polar, bi-polar to me would be a step down. I have more of an extreme personality, in every aspect of my life. I'm either on top or on bottom, there is never a in between for me. 
          Even though I learned early on that I might think I'm suicidal, there is no way I would ever be able to do it, and talking about it or acting on it only ends you up in places, I for one never wanted to go to again. So I focused all my attention on the three things I loved the most, music, art and writing(mostly poetry, but I have started a few books and then lost them). I just learned to deal with all the other parts of my mental state. The depression, the insomnia(from my mind racing a million miles an hour and never stopping), and all the other ups and downs of my life.
          Eventually, I ended up in Va. Beach and started in computer technology, school was always boring and easy to me(which is why I got kicked out in 11th grade and got my G.E.D), everyone told me I should go into computers, because I could make a lot of money. The only problem was, I learned quickly that I didn't like that environment, but I did get really good grades. Not to mention all my focus was on my music, art and poetry.         
         So after finishing school and years of various drugs and drinking(which by the way I hate alcohol, but that is a completely different story all together) I found this miracle drug heroin. It was the answer to everything(so it seemed). I had dabbled with it years before and loved it, but never got as involved as I would.
          I moved back to the D.C. area and quickly formed a couple bands with two former band mates. The band started progressing pretty quickly, I got a loan and built a studio in my basement and was doing really good. The band had a few set backs, like the guitarist/singer broke his arm, but I would just switch back and forth from bass to guitar(I was mainly a guitarist, but I loved playing the bass). We were only a three piece band and we switched back and forth between guitar and bass. I had a two piece band in Va Beach, just me and a drummer. I had written a bunch of songs with many different styles, I have always loved every kind of music(except country).
          After my guitarist's arm heal we were full throttle, getting gigs, making demos and just trying to make it full speed. After a while, the band broke up for some stupid reason, but we were all pretty close. Within that same year things got really bad for my guitarist and he ended up dying. This completely destroyed me. I was already getting more and more into the heroin and less into my creativity. I ended up selling most of my equipment.
          I guess at this point I should mention that I never did anything with my degree, I worked a lot of construction jobs here and there with different friends, but like I said my mood swings and insomnia kept me from being a productive member of society(for many years I longed to be normal and live a normal life). Before the heroin, my working skills were horrible, but I always thought of it this way, I worked night and day on my creative outlets and even though I might not make any money now, one day after I die, someone is going to get rich.
          As my heroin use progressed and my music equipment shrank, I realized I needed to work more to support my habit. I was never a good criminal, so I knew that was never an option. I just threw myself into work full time as a carpenter(even though I'm an only child I had a real close friend that I consider his whole family, my family and they were all master carpenters). I pretty much always had a job whenever I wanted it.
         Maybe now you can kind of get a picture of where I am going with this. even though my creative outlets were gone, the heroin allowed me to go to sleep at a descent hour and wake up really early, for once in my life I was considered a productive part of society.
          After a few years of heroin use, everyone was on my case to quit, I tried everything, but knew down deep inside that I didn't want to quit. I always said that I would never go on methadone, but after falling deeply in love with this one girl, I gave in and started a methadone program.
         Once on methadone, I stopped working. Something about methadone just doesn't work for me. I know a few people it has worked for, but for the most part, it just makes people zombies!!! After a while, I lost my girlfriend and decided to go back on heroin.
          I called up my old boss(more like brother) and he gave me some work. This was early 2003. Everything was great for about 4 years. I went from making $12 an hr to $17 an hr with a year. He would trust me most of the time to run things if he wasn't there. There was even a few people that worked with us that had more experience, but he knew I learned quicker and was a lot more loyal.
          Everything was great, even though I hadn't done anything creative, I was finally a "normal" person. Most people didn't even know I had an addiction. In the 4 years I worked there, I only missed one day, when my dealer at the time ran out and I couldn't go to work sick. I was the first one there and the last to leave. Life couldn't get any better in my opinion. I loved working and I loved heroin. Also, people had finally excepted the fact that I wasn't going to quit and if they didn't, I didn't need them anyways(in my opinion), the people that truly loved me, understood.
           In late 2006, my boss made a decision that would change me forever. His sister needed a house built an he decided to build it. We had enough people working with us, that he figured he could split us up into two crews. Unfortunately, it didn't work out like planned and we lost our steady job. Though it didn't matter at the time, because we had work.
          Well, his sisters house turned out to be a nightmare. One problem after the other. By Feb. of 2007, everything fell apart and I ended up back on methadone. I just couldn't afford my habit anymore, I tried selling dope, but that was even more of a mistake, I just wasn't cut out to be a drug dealer. You can't do the drugs you are selling, it just doesn't work.
          Before I went back on methadone, I had a real problem. I got some dope with some bad cut and it just about took off all the skin on my right arm. Luckily, I'm left handed though. As it healed my arm locked up and I haven't been able to straighten it out since. My wrist is permanently bent over, if I want to straighten my hand, I have to pull it up.
          I went to the hospital and $10,000 later it is still messed up. They told me they wanted to cut it off, but I told them as long as I can move my fingers, it is STAYING!!! The doctor asked me "even if it means you will die?" and I boldly told her "YES"!!!
          Since I couldn't work anymore, I got back on methadone and it has been complete hell ever since. My breathing got so bad, I would almost collapse just going down 5 stairs!!!I haven't really worked a day since I started the methadone. Except the occasional times when someone offered to buy me dope for work. If I had dope, I could still work pretty good. Even with my arm messed up, by biggest problem is my breathing. Luckily heroin suppresses your breathing and work was easy. Unfortunately, no one wants to hire someone as messed up as me. Even if they did, the methadone has messed me up so bad, I wouldn't be able to do it.
          I literally was preparing to die!!! I thought my time here was going to end real soon. I was sleeping 12-18 hrs a day. In fact, the only time I left my house was to go to the methadone clinic and then I came right back home. The weeks turned into months and then into years. Before I knew it 4 1/2 years had passed and I was at deaths door, with no hope in sight!!!
          It's strange how quickly you can lose everything and not even care, I was feeling so useless that I greeted death with open arms. I almost welcomed it. Anything to relieve me from the boring worthless life I was living!!!